Different World
by Brone Greyclaw
Summary: The war is over and life goes on. For "The Boy Who Lived," and for every one else, it is time to move forward. Things have changed for a lot of people. For many, it is now A Different World.


Authors Note: A return to the potterverse... OK I know I have been out of the loop for a while, but that writing bug that has been chewing on me finally got in a good bite so I have to try. This story is intended to be a hybrid of my own Fifth Year story "Different Magic" and the Cannon OotP, HBP, and DH. This is an Alternative Universe Story. Even though this story will be in contradiction to Harry Potter cannon I must remind you that JKR planted this garden. I am just planting some weeds of my own. ( a rose in a garlic patch is a weed too ) Any similarities to any person, living or not, is an accident, or with their permission. The subject of magic and the occult and the potterverse are two separate things… Read and enjoy.

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Chapter 1

Harry was free of the Dursleys forever, at the cost of his Godfather's life and the life of Albus Dumbledore. The total of the considerable Black family holdings were now Harry's, in addition to the inheritance from his parents, making him a very rich. He also had a modest income from his investment in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. When Harry had turned seventeen he was free to use magic without fear of reprisal from the ministry, and at the same moment he gained that freedom the thin layer of protection that his mother had given him by sacrificing herself was gone.

It was an early on Saturday evening. The spare bedroom at No. 4 Private Drive was spotless except for a small pile of boxes with an empty owl cage on top. Hedwig was out delivering letters letting his closest friends know he was moving and that any owl post was going to be delayed while it was rerouted for security. Harry was leaving the Dursleys' for good. Dudley sat on the edge of the bed, watching his cousin. He knew why the smaller boy was so eager to leave, and a part of himself he didn't want to acknowledge was feeling guilty for being a part of what was driving his cousin away. Over the last year and change, Harry and Dudley had come to see each other as real people, and not just how Petunia and Vernon Dursley had wanted them too. It hadn't hurt that Harry had saved Dudley from a Dementor. Or that the pair of them had started talking about normal things like boxing and girls.

Dudley had been driven by normal teenage rebellion against his parents to be less hostile to his cousin and had been rewarded for it. After a summer of sparring with his faster cousin, Dudley's boxing skills had improved noticeably. There was talk of a national competition in his final year at Smeltings that his boxing coach wanted to put Dudley's name in for. After that encounter with the Dementor Dudley knew he would never fear any man in or out of the ring for the rest of his life. This gave him a confidence in himself that he had been lacking. Talking with Harry about girls brought in conversations about schools, and talking about schools eventually meant talking about magic. Dudley, out of a mix of curiosity and rebellion, had started asking to see some magic. Harry had explained the restriction on underage use of wands, leaving Dudley lass then satisfied. However potion making didn't use a wand and there is where Harry and Dudley had found out something interesting.

Dudley, a muggle to the core, could make potions if he had the right directions and ingredients. After an afternoon of Sparring, Harry had given his cousin a sample of Restorative Draught that had been his potions OWL project. Dudley had felt the rush of cool energy flow through his body, washing away the fatigue of exercising in the summer heat. With careful planning, Harry taught Dudley how to make simple potions, like how to give a person a perfect tan for 48 hours. Or how to give the hair perfect shine and body for a month. These were the kinds of potions that were printed in the Sunday edition of Daily Prophet. Fun but impractical, these simple potions could mostly be made using common kitchen herbs and a few ingredients that could be picked up from the market, if you didn't mind some odd looks from the butcher. Dludly's favorite, and one he became an expert at making using common kitchen herbs, was the 'Five Pounds; Plus or Minus.' The article said it was to give the Witch or Wizard just what they needed to fit into just the right robes for that special occasion. Depending on if the potion was stirred clockwise or counterclockwise for that last eleven stirs in twenty seconds it would add or subtract five pounds from the user for six hours. Dudley loved it because he now had the perfect tool to get through the weigh-in before each match. He still had to watch his diet, but now he didn't have to worry about having a few extra bites too few or too many.

Harry was packed up to leave and he had promised Dudley a chance to see some real magic. All he had to do was help get Vernon to drive Harry in to London. Dudley managed his side of the deal by talking his uncle into taking him to a sport outfitter for a pair of made-to-order boxing gloves. At the last minute Harry would ask for a lift and Dudley would tell his father it was all right, and maybe he would get a chance to test the gloves out on his cousin. Vernon Dersley never realized how well the two boys had learned to manipulate him.

"You ready?" Harry asked with a grin.

Dudley answered with a matching grin and a nod.

"Dobby, Kreacher," Harry spoke to the empty air. There came a pair of soft "pops" of displaced air as two small creatures appeared in the room with the boys. "Quitet now," Harry warned as soon as the two had appeared. "What do you think you mum would say about house elves?" Harry asked his cousin.

Dudley spared a moment to look at the creatures. The looked a little like what he would expect an imp to be like. Small humanoid bodies with, long skinny limbs, oversized hands and feet, and with long floppy years. That was about as far as the similarities went. One was dressed like a mental patient with mismatched socks, a pair of boxers that fit him like baggy trousers held up with a silk tie used for a belt and a small girls flower print blouse for a shirt. The other wore a mildewed towel as a toga.

"She would scream her self horse," Dudley said with a wicked grin.

"Thank you for coming," Harry said to the pair of creatures. "Take this pile back to Number Twelve please. Carefully," Harry emphasized the last. With a string of "pops" that sounded to Dudley like a loud fart, the creatures and the pile of boxes with the empty owl cage on top vanished. Harry turned back to his cousin. "Breakfast?"

Harry arrived at No.12 Grimnauld Place by muggle taxi. He had left his uncle and Dudley and had managed to find his way to the Leaky Caldron without too much difficulty. A quick trip to Gringotts was needed to handle some paperwork. As Sirius Black's heir, and the only person with legal claim to the Black family holdings, he now had more gold under his name at Gringotts then he knew what to do with. While he was there he took the time to add to his money pouch and to exchange some of his gold for British pounds. A little shopping and lunch at the Leaky Caldron followed. Harry also made arrangements at the pub for is owl posts to be delivered to a box there he could collect it later. Finally he caught a cab and told the driver to take him to Number Ten Grimnauld Place. Once the driver was gone from sight Harry made his way to the door of No.12.

For a moment Harry stood looking at the door feeling at a loss. He didn't have a key, and there wasn't even a keyhole. Feeling a little hopeless, he tried the latch. Harry felt a tingle run up his arm and heard the clatter of the bolts and catches. The door opened for the Master of Number Twelve Grimnauld Place.

Harry closed the door with a shove and it slammed shut with a bang. There was immediately a loud screeching as a pair of decaying curtains parted and the portrait of Mrs. Black was uncovered.

"Inturder!" The old woman screamed. "Tresspasser! Get your filthy carcass out of my house!"

Harry watched her for a moment before yelling.

"Enough!" Harry bellowed. "Shut your trap or I'll be rid of you once and for all!"

"This is my home you wretched thing! I won't have you and your filthy kind under my roof!"

"Dobby," Harry called out. In an instant the house elf was there. "Tear that down." Harry pointed at the portrait.

"I can't," Dobby looked ashamed. His hero had asked him to do something and he had to admit that it was beyond his ability. Dobby was on the edge of beating himself when Harry took a step forward.

"Enough!" Harry roared as he raised one foot and kicked with his heal into the wall next to the portrait. With a crunch there was now a hole in the old plaster and lathe. "If she won't shut up take out the wall if you have to." Dobby brightened at being given a way to obey Harry's wishes. In the portrait, Mrs. Black went silent. Harry looked at her bulging eyes, drooling lips, and yellowed skin for a minute before he spoke again. "Mrs. Black out of my love for my godfather, your son, I will let you stay, but this is My House. Voldemort has killed or taken every one of your children and I'm going to put an end to him for all time. I'm the only chance you have of seeing the name of Black being anything but a disgraceful memory. I've had enough of being put down and called names and I will not have it in **_My House_**." Harry felt good for having shouted back at the portrait in much the way he had always wanted to answer his Aunt Petunia's superior attitude and cruel remarks.

"Well," Mrs. Black said in a huff. "If this is your house now then see to it I get some new curtains." At a gesture from her the rotting curtains snapped closed.

When Harry turned around every portrait he could see held faces of witches and wizards that were eyeing him thoughtfully. The next day Harry set out to make his life at No.12 as pleasant as he could by trying to make peace with Kreacher. He summoned the house elf and handed him some gold. He told Kreacher to go and get some curtains for Mrs. Black's portrait. The next day the new curtains were in place. Blood red velvet with the crest of the Black family embroidered in golden thread. Harry was pleased with the new curtains, and he wasn't the only one. When Harry had finished breakfast he came out into the hall to see the curtains open and Mrs. Black was ordering Kreacher about as he cleaned everything in site of the portrait.

The old house at No.12 Grimnauld Place had become a nice place to live. Previously, while being used as a headquarters for working against Voldemort, while trying to avoid ministry attenetion, Molly Weasley had made a heroic effort to make the long neglected building livable. Harry, with an abundance of free time after he moved in, took it upon him self to continue the battle against dirt and grime. He did this with a different outlook then Mrs. Weasley. Every book was carefully kept for later study. Things that looked sinister were carefully set aside. While he intended to clean every corner of the house, Harry was determined to keep every little thing that might come in handy in his fight against Voldemort. Kreacher, the Black family's house elf, happy to see that Black family heirlooms were not being tossed out with the rubbish, was more willing to help Harry with the scrubbing and waxing of the floors. Dobby was fanatical in his efforts to make the old house shine with care. Between the three of them the old house was making a comeback. Many bits of Black family history were set carefully aside in one of the spare bedrooms. When Kreacher wasn't busy with something else had been in that room making it into a family shrine. Harry himself concentrated on the study. Every day he had started in a different part of the house, usually with the house elves at his side, but some time after lunch he would be back in the library, where he would alternate cleaning with trying to go through the books. Harry had been determined to put an end to Voldemort. With Harry and Dobby working together with Kreacher the house quickly became livable once more.

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When Harry returned to his home after the final battle at Hogwarts. He was sore and exhausted in both mind and body. He threw himself down on the bed. Sleep took him in an instant. Dreams came and went in a mix of shadows. When Harry woke up late the next day he lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling with a thought running through his mind.

_'Now what?' _

Harry had spent his early years as a Nobody. His life had been controlled by his aunt and uncle. Then he received his Hogwarts letter and he learned about his heritage. Seven years Harry endured being "The Boy Who Lived." Years of being haunted, and hunted, because of his heritage. Now the war was over. Harry was an adult, and he had nobody telling him what he needed to do.

_'This is strange,'_ Harry thought to himself. He was walking down the street, in normal muggle clothing, with nobody paying any special attention to him. He paused every so often to feel with his mind, something he had learned to do while fighting to survive over the last two years. He would use his Will and his Mind to perceive the area, but nobody was focused on him. There was no detail of bodyguards watching from the shadows. The area was free from hunters on the prowl for him. Harry liked the feeling of freedom, but it was alien to him. Back at home Harry had little to do. The house elves kept everything clean. They even did the shopping. Harry tried to replant the garden last spring. He got as far as asking Kreacher where the gardening tools were before some emergency had come up. Weeks later he went to look at the garden to see what needed to be done, only to find out that it had all been taken care of. Harry needed something to occupy his time while he planned out what to do next with his life. That thought had prompted his latest trip out into the muggle world to do a little shopping.

Harry gave a sigh of satisfaction. He was sitting on a small, wheeled stool in the carriage house. His hands were dark with grease and his clothes were stained and smeared with oil and grime, but Harry was smiling. It had taken Harry more then a month to do it, but he had finally restored the old Triumph motorcycle. While Harry had been working on Sirius' old motorbike he had found himself able to think about his situation more clearly. Harry realized that he needed to have something in his life to give him some structure to build around. The bike had been a short term project, something he could push himself to work on, at least for a little while every day.

It was, Harry reflected later, inevitable. He couldn't just do nothing with is life. He had enough gold that hew would probably never have to work, but he needed to be doing something. Years of being hounded and hunted, fighting for his life and to protect others had left him with a rather limited set of skills for adult life. In the end, Harry Potter decided to do something he though his parents would be proud of, and that he had the experience and skills for. He became an Auror for the Ministry of Magic.

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Harry Potter sat in the back of the pub reflecting on the irony of the situation. He had an appointment with his cousin Dudley Dursley. Harry and Dudley had exchanged cards during the holidays, and on each others birthdays, but didn't talk much. The last time they had met face to face had been over a year prior. The occasional letters had been just polite exchanges that shared little actual information or emotion. Harry was surprised by his cousin's request for a meeting. He sat in a booth at the back of the muggle pub, enjoying being an anonymous face, as he waited for his cousin.

Dudley Dursley entered the pub looking like he meant business. He was a powerfully built man with broad shoulders and a thick waist. As soon as he was clear of the doorway he sidestepped so he wasn't a framed silhouette as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the pub. He spotted Harry right away, but still took a moment to scan the room. When he was satisfied that all was as it should be, Dudley crossed over to where his cousin was sitting.

"Harry," Dudley said in greeting as he slid into the booth opposite his cousin. "You look well."

"Thank you," Harry acknowledged. "You look like life is agreeing with you."

"It is," Dudley agreed. He waved his fist with two fingers raised. "I enjoy my work." He had a small smile as he said it and he sounded earnest.

"Good to hear," Harry nodded. "You know, you never told me why you decided to join the force."

Conversation was suspended as an unassuming bar maid brought two pints of beer. Harry politely deposited some Pound notes on her serving tray while Dudley accepted the glasses, keeping one for himself and placing the other in front of his cousin. Harry gave a nod to Dudley and sipped at his beer. Dudley took a long pull of his that half drained the glass.

"Ahhhh," He sighed. "I needed that." He set the glass down and closed his eyes for a minute. He sat there, just breathing for a moment, before sighing again as he opened his eyes. "Do you remember the Summer we turned seventeen?"

"Yes," Harry said slowly. It was a Summer he doubted he could ever forget.

"After spending most of that year hiding..." Dudley frowned. "When we were finally allowed to return home, Dad just went back to his normal routine and tried to pretend nothing had happened. Mum couldn't just ignore everything that had happened. She couldn't sit still at first. She cleaned the house constantly. I saw her standing at the door to your old room, the door was closed but she was just standing there like she was trying to look through it. At night Mum would keep the curtains closed and turn on every light in the room. I watched her jumping at shadows and it made me angry."

"At first I was angry at you," Dudley admitted. "Later, when I could accept that it wasn't your fault, I started trying to think of ways I could protect Mum. I wanted to make sure nothing like that would ever happen to her again. Somewhere along the way I changed to wanting to protect the neighborhood." Dudley shrugged his shoulders and took another long drink of his beer. "Joining the police just followed some how."

"Alright," Harry said for lack of anything better.

"Turns out that I like the work," Dudley continued. "And I'm good at it too." He finished his glass and waved for another.

"What do your parents say about it?" Harry asked.

"Well Dad is puffed up with pride over it. Except when I refuse to fix a parking ticket for him," Dudley admitted with a chuckle. "Mum's proud too, but she worries a lot."

"She's your mother," Harry said sagely.

"Heh," Dudley accepted another pint and paid for it. "Family can be funny like that," he said before taking a drink. "Which brings us to you."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Do tell," Harry prompted.

"Well..." Dudley paused as he gathered his thoughts. "Somethings been going on that has the higher ups in a bit of a twist. My supervisor was doing a background check on me. I don't know if it was just a routine check or what. Back on our old school records we're listed as cousins with the same address. Then you turned eleven and your records stop. No school, nothing. So my supervisor starts a search for your government record. He wanted to see if I had a crooked cousin or something. Imagine the mess when a man comes down from Number Ten Downing Street wanting to know why someone was looking you up."

"Not good," Harry winced. He could imagine some of the measures in place to keep him safe from escaped Death Eaters and who knows

who else might be looking for 'The Boy Who Lived.'

"Well there are plenty of ruffled feathers at headquarters."

"You remember 'why' you had to go in hiding," Harry said.

Dudley nodded.

"When the war was over there was still a question of who might have gotten away who would be after me for some revenge."

"Bullox that!" Dudley barked. "All that fear, all that fighting, and somebody is still trying to stick it to you? That ain't fair."

"I'm not the awkward orphan anymore," Harry said with a grim smirk. "I'm more then ready to put up a fight when trouble comes looking for me now.

Dudley was the older of the pair by a few weeks. After less then a year on the streets as a constable he had seen some things that showed the darker side of humanity. Sitting in that pub, looking Harry in the eyes, Dudley realized that his cousin had seen more darkness then most police ever would. Harry was just a few weeks younger then Dudley, but his eyes were many years older. That realization made Dudley feel cold.

"So," Dudley said, trying to find a topic for conversation that would be less awkward. "What have you been doing with your time?"

"Well after the war…" Harry gave a sudden bark of laughter. "Darn it, but that make me sound old." He hunched his shoulders and squinted at his cousin. "After we beat them Gerries and the war was over…" He gave another laugh and relaxed.

Dudley had a laugh at the too. He was glad the awkward moment had passed.

"When it was all over," Harry continued. "I took some time to get my house in order. I needed some time to figure out what to do with my life. I had spent the last couple of years running for my life and fighting dark wizards. When it was over I didn't know what to do for a while. I finally decided to do the only thing I had any experience with. I became an Auror. Now I work for the Ministry."

"What's an Orrer?" Dudley asked.

"An Auror," Harry explained. "Is like a wizard police officer. I enforce the laws of the Ministry of Magic. I answer emergency calls." Harr gave a shrug. "I'd like to think my parents would be proud of me."

"What kind of laws does your kind have?" Dudley wanted to know.

"Mostly the same as everybody else," Harry said with a casual gesture. "It's the laws about misusing magic that the Aurors really focus on." Harry fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Did you hear about the incident, about a month ago, where a shop had beards glued to all of its mannequins?"

"Heh," Dudley chuckled. "I remember that. Security didn't see a thing so everybody thought it was a prank. But the beards wouldn't come off so the had to take the heads off all the women and kids mannequins, and had to trim the men."

"Seams an old wizard had gone in to buy something and one of the employees made a crack about his beard," Harry reported. "We caught up to him about to days later. He was sitting in a pub crowing about what he had done. We cited him and he had to pay a fine. The shop had already fixed their displays so we just sent them a check that looked like it was from their insurance carrier for 'reparations of damages.'"

"We have a lot of laws," Harry explained. "About where and how to not use magic. Some of them are to protect muggles. But their main purpose is to help protect the secrecy of magic."

"You don't say," Dudley didn't know how he felt about their being a whole body of laws, that he didn't know about, that still could have an impact on his duties. "So if I have any more cases like that I should just give you a call?"

"Couldn't hurt," Harry shrugged. He fished a card from his pocket and slid it across the table. "Call my house any time. If it's important tell whoever answers that its urgent and I'll get the message right away."

"Right," Dudley pocketed the card. "I guess me and you are related after all."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Look at us," Dudley smiled warmly. "We're both cops."

The cousins shared a laugh. The two cousins talked for a little while longer about the news and the weather. They both agreed that it was good to get together and talk once in a while, and agreed to stay in touch. As the pub's evening crowd started to come in the two said their goodbyes and parted company.


End file.
